I guess, it will be a small and messy letter into nowhere. For some context:
1 - https://www.furaffinity.net/journal/10957028/
2 - https://www.furaffinity.net/journal/10960727/

Y’know, Austin, I’ve seen death dozens of times, but only now it did hit me _that_ hard. I can’t even shed a tear at this point.
It’s been ten days since your death and I still can’t believe that it’s all actually real. I’m awaiting for this terrible dream to end so I could hug you again.
And then I remember that day. The first time that a doctor saw you, - she asked why the actual heck did we travel a thousand miles, because you looked healthy and happy. And then, an hour later, when she saw your MRI results she met me saying “it’s all completely fucked up”. That day, I’ve spent bawling my eyes out at the crowded vet clinic in between seeing different doctors and performing the needed scans. I’ve seen many different people with different stories, - someone even walked up to me to tell that their cat had to go through the same surgery and now lives and enjoys it’s life for many years. There were many people, - maybe a hundred or two passed us then, - and there we were.
I felt that something might happen. And I felt that something might go wrong. But I still decided to try and let them perform the surgery. And listen to the crowd of doctors who kept telling me I should’ve tried to sleep a bit while they do their work. Back then, I haven’t slept for four days and I guess it was visible. But instead of sleeping, I kept on praying so that everything went well with you.
And then there was a call from the vet deep in the night. A call which made me scream so hard that my voice is still broken ten days after. A call which made me hit the wall so hard that my arm might be broken - don’t know it yet, will find out soon.
They said that your heart has stopped and your body doesn’t respond on any tries to revive you. They said, that they didn’t even know why you died – the surgery was quite easy. They gave me their assumptions and heavily insisted on performing an autopsy because your case was special and none of them have ever seen something like this. Not many can live with a cleft palate for nine years. And counting the state the otitis was at, - it’s strange that you didn’t show any symptoms except for pain when yawning. With such a shit going on inside a head, most don’t even get up, or they keep walking in circles completely numb to the world, and there you were. You showed me that you were hurt, yet you kept playing your toys, kept clinging to me asking for attention, kept eating and everything else. Some of my friends even joked, that we don’t need to perform a DNA test to find out that you were a son of mine, no shit.
I refused an autopsy. I guess, I wouldn’t be able to bear this if they mutilated you after death.
I guess, I still haven't gotten out of that night yet. When they gave me that box with your body and I’ve been sitting with it at the vet clinic for several hours because I didn’t want to return to an empty apartment that I’ve rented. An apartment where was your tiny sweater, your pillow, toys, a plaid curled up in a donut – you loved it that way – and your plates with pre-cooked food. Because I thought I’d take and feed you after surgery. I thought you would appreciate it, as you were hungry and tired.
But instead, I had to throw the food away and pack your things in a bag. And get back to our home city, carrying an urn with your ashes instead of you at my lap.
I fucking miss you. Each time I catch myself trying to call you or reaching out my hand to pet you. Each time I’m trying to adjust the blanket because this is how you liked it. When I eat anything – I’m still tearing a tiny millimeter piece to give it to you, to please you a bit. When I lay in bed, I still wait for you to come and lay with me, and snore into my cheek. When I leave the room, I still try to catch the sound of your tiny nails on the floor. You were following me everywhere.
But all I can hear is the deafening silence.
Today I’ve ordered a food delivery for myself and that was the moment when my heart broke completely: you didn’t bark at the doorbell. I don’t know how am I going to be without you, my little sunshine. For now, my life is a simple existence on autopilot, and the only thoughts that haunt me are: “I’m sorry please forgive me please I love you so much im sorry”. I don’t know whether I can forgive myself for everything that happened. For not travelling to an another city earlier and for that you died encircled by the doctors, so tiny and vulnerable and I wasn’t there for you.
And, gotta say, - I don’t regret that we travelled there and at least tried to do something. Now I at least have the answers. Otherwise, if you suddenly left on your own, I’d suffer from the unknown and it would be even more unbearable. And no, I don’t feel sad or hurt because the other animals are alive and healthy. On the contrary, I'm glad.
I'm just sad and hurt that it's not you anymore.
And even more it hurts when I realize that you’ve just healed from your june’s FHO surgery. You’ve *just* started walking and running normally again and then - that. You deserved to live many more years and bathe in love and affection, not that shit that happened. Why? God, why was it you? How am I going to bear without you? My whole life was built around you for these nine freaking years, and now you’re gone. I promised you a toy bird after we return to our home city, but now… Hurting as hell, I removed it from my online cart.
But at least you’re not in pain anymore. It soothes me a bit.
Try and find me in your next life, alright? I’ll be waiting. And I will try to keep living even if now it seems impossible.
Until then, rest in peace, my little sunshine.
I’ll see you again, my loved one.